Some Days Just Go By
by Ryo314
Summary: ...others are more complicated. Follow up to Wendigo episode.


Title: Some Days Just Go By

Author: Ryo314

Rating: T

Spoilers: _Wendigo_

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters nor the concept of _Supernatural_.

Summary: Some days just go by; others are more complicated. Follow up to _Wendigo _episode.

Note: This story is a continuation of my favorite episode, _Wendigo _(season 1). It starts a few days after the episode would have ended and is just supposed to be a humorous brother story. I am going through a lot of my old stories and fixing them for repost. I hope you enjoy.

**Some Days Just Go By**

"_If you try to do everything alone, you'll wind up tired and stressed-out; Trust your friends and let them help you."_

It had been about three days ago since he and Sam had left the Colorado wilderness, and Dean was still feeling the effects of being strung up by his arms for hours. His arms and shoulders were killing him, and the eight hours they'd spent driving in the car the day before had done nothing to help. His left shoulder wasn't so bad; it was only a sore. His right shoulder, however, was sore and very _very_ stiff. During his turns driving, Dean had kept his hand lower on the steering wheel and very seldom adjusted himself in his seat; even slight movements greatly bothered his shoulders. Dean had to say he was keeping the pain to himself pretty well, especially considering all of Sam's sidelong glances and constant "Are you sure you're okays?"

This morning when he woke up, however, he became unnervingly aware of the fact he couldn't really move his right shoulder. He slowly pushed himself up out of bed using his good arm and made his way slowly to the bathroom, giving Sam an un-energized grunt that was supposed to mean "Good Morning."

He spent a long thirty minutes in the shower, relishing the feel of the hot water over his sore muscles. However, after the shower, Dean felt his stomach drop when he realized he still couldn't so much as wiggle his right shoulder. He suddenly went into survival mode, trying to remember what his father had told about stiff muscles; heat was good for them, resting...what else? Dammit! He couldn't remember what else. It didn't matter; whenever Sam was out, he would hot washcloths on his shoulder, and he would be better in no time. As long as Sam didn't find out, there would be no problem.

"Did you drown?" Sam shouted from outside the bathroom door.

"No, I'm just putting away your make up, Princess," Dean replied bitterly, carefully wrapping a towel around his waist. He used his bad arm to hold the towel in place and stepped out into the hotel room. He ignored Sam's questioning gaze and dug through his bag with his good arm. He grabbed some clothes and started to make his way back to the bathroom to get dressed.

"Where you going?" asked Sam, staring at Dean.

"To bathroom."

"You just got done in there."

Dean stared at Sam, trying to come up with a response that wouldn't give away his sore shoulder. "I know what this is about?"

"What?" said Sam.

"You just want to see me naked while I get dressed. I didn't know you swung that way, Sam." He turned to go back to the bathroom.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Dean. Would you just hurry up, so we can go get some breakfast."

Dean shook his head, impressed by his response and got dressed as quickly as his stiff shoulder would allow. He left the bathroom five minutes later and was greeted by Sam standing right outside the bathroom waiting for him.

"You know, Sam. We've spent just about all our time together lately; you really don't need to stalk me."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I'd be better though if you gave me some space."

"I'm serious, Dean."

"So am I." Dean used his good arm to push past Sam.

"You've been acting weird since we left Colorado."

"Whatever, Sam. I'll be fine after we go get some breakfast." He shoved his feet into his shoes, so Sam wouldn't see that he couldn't really use his right arm and grabbed the keys off the table by the door. Sam shook his head and followed his brother out the door; he didn't believe his brother at all.

XVIIIIV

Sam wasn't particularly enthused about the diner Dean had picked for breakfast, but he had more important things to worry about that his brother's choice in eateries. He knew his brother's shoulder was bothering him, but no matter what he tried, Dean refused to admit he was in any pain. Sam had wanted desperately for his brother to admit on his own that something was wrong, but it didn't seem as though that was going to be the case. It was now time for Sam to bring out the big guns; guilting Dean into telling him what was wrong by using the fact they had to be in top shape to watch each other's backs.

"What are you going to get?" asked Dean, looking at the single page menu.

"Dean, we need to talk," said Sam, pushing his menu off to the side.

"Hmm...I don't see that on here." Dean flipped the menu back and forth a time or two before looking up at Sam. "Is it in the specials or something?"

"Dean?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "What do you want to talk about?"

"What is wrong with your shoulder?"

Dean shook his head. "There is nothing _wrong_ with my shoulder."

Sam stared at Dean. "I haven't seen you move your right arm more than a few inches since yesterday afternoon."

"I'm sorry I haven't waved my arms about lately. I'll be sure to work that into my schedule." Sam raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything in response. "My shoulder is fine, Sammy."

"It's Sam, and are you sure? Like really?" Sam crossed his arms and stared at his brother.

"Like really." Dean looked back down at his menu.

"Raise your arm."

Dean looked up. "What?"

"Raise your arm above your head. You said you would put it in your schedule."

"Sam-"

"Do it!"

Dean shook his head and raised his left arm. "There! Happy?" He thought he'd beat his brother.

"Very," said Sam sarcastically. "Now, raise your right arm."

"What is this about Sam?" demanded Dean angrily, not wanting to deal with his arm while his stomach was empty...or at all.

"Dean, I'm wor-"

"What can I get you boys?"

Sam and Dean looked up to see a woman in her late forties holding a ticket pad, looking expectantly at them.

Sam looked at his menu and then back at the waitress. "I'll just take a cup of coffee."

Dean looked back at his own menu. "I'll take the bacon and eggs with a cup of coffee."

"Would you like toast or hash browns?"

"Um...toast."

The woman marked it on her notepad. "Alright. I'll get you two your coffees, and I'll bring your food out when it's ready."

"Thanks," said Sam. He turned back to his brother. "Dean, we're not done."

"What? Ordering? I think we are. The waitress did walk away and everything. Isn't that how it works?"

"Dean, you know what I mean."

Dean slammed his left hand on the table, startling the people in the booths around him and looked up at his brother. "You know what I want to talk about, Sam?" Dean pointed at his brother and tried to look threatening.

Sam lifted an eyebrow. "What?"

Dean stared at Sam as he slowly lowered his hand. "Well...nothing, 'cause I'm a man, and I don't have chick flick moments. Now, I've got to go to the bathroom." He got out of the booth and pushed himself to his feet using his good arm.

"Dean-"

"Just forget it, Sam." Dean had turned back to his brother to try and tell him off, but when he wasn't looking were he was going, Dean managed to walk straight into the waitress who was bringing back their coffee. The waitress dropped one of the cups which splashed hot coffee all over Dean. In a desperate attempt to try and ease the sudden pain, Dean tried to lift his right arm; the results were disastrous to say the least.

Dean has experienced a lot of pain in his life, both physical and mental (though Sam would never know about the mental), but the pain that resulted from trying to move his frozen shoulder was the worst he had ever experienced. He felt as though someone had set a hot poker against his shoulder, not that he had ever felt that before. Dean dropped to his knees and clutched at his bad shoulder. People were getting up from their tables to see what the commotion was while Sam knelt down in front of his brother.

"Dean!? Dean, are you okay?"

"Just peachy," replied Dean through gritted teeth, trying to get back to his feet. He stumbled forward and put his good arm forward to catch himself. When Sam helped him to his feet, Dean didn't fight him, but he did give his brother a glare to show he wasn't entirely happy with the fact that he needed help.

"Are you okay?" asked the waitress, looking very nervous.

"I'm fine," replied Dean, pulling his arm from Sam's grip. "Just messed up my shoulder a few days ago."

"Which you conveniently forgot to tell me," Sam muttered into Dean's year; he looked up at the waitress. "Is there a hospital anywhere close?"

The waitress shook her head. "There's one in Griffin's Head, but that is over an hour away."

"There's the free clinic up the street," said one of the patrons at the diner. "Gina may be able to help them out."

The waitress nodded. "Yeah. Gina deals with just about everything from colds to helping people with broken bones until an ambulance comes. She's even delivered a coupla babies."

"Thanks," said Sam. "Where's the clinic at?"

"I don't need to go to a clinic," insisted Dean, still rubbing his bad shoulder. "I certainly don't need a baby delivered."

"It's just down the street; it's a small gray building. You can't miss it."

Sam nodded and grabbed hold of his brother's good arm; he started to direct his brother out of the diner, but before they could get out of the door, the waitress stopped them.

"Can I ask you just one question?" asked the waitress.

"What?" asked Sam.

"You...you guys aren't going to sue or anything, are you?"

Sam rolled his eyes, and he and Dean headed back to their car.

"I can't believe you, Dean," said Sam, letting go of his brother's arm. "All you had to do was tell me about your shoulder, and we could have avoided all of this."

"Where would have been the fun in that?" Dean opened the passenger's side door and carefully lowered himself down into the seat. "Now, can we just go back to the hotel?"

"No. Dean, we're going to that clinic."

"Sam, all my shoulder needs is some heat and rest...and maybe a hot girl to massage it."

"Dean, you need to get that shoulder looked at?"

"Oh...yeah...shoulder." Sam looked at his brother. "Can we please just go back to the hotel, Sam?"

"No," replied Sam simply as he started the car. Like the people in the diner had said, the clinic was right up the street, and it was impossible to miss. Sam parked the Impala and got out of the car. He walked up to the doors, and then turned around to see his brother still sitting in the car.

"Come on, Dean."

Dean rolled down his window a few inches awkwardly with his left hand and shouted through the crack, "No!"

Sam crossed his arms. "Dean, you're acting like a five-year-old."

"Am not." Dean slouched down in his seat.

"Dean, would you please get out of the car?! You need to get your shoulder looked at."

"My shoulder is fine!"

"Dean, get out of the car!"

Dean grumbled a few things under his breath and struggled with the door of the car. Sam waited a few moments, but then decided to risk his brother's embarrassment and opened the door for Dean.

"Thanks, Jeeves," muttered Dean as he got out of the car. Sam and Dean entered the clinic and found the waiting room virtually empty which was fine with Sam and Dean. Dean took a seat in one of the hard plastic chairs while Sam went to speak with the woman working as a receptionist.

"Um...hi."

The woman looked up from her magazine. "Hello?" She closed her magazine. "What can I do for you?"

"Um...my brother hurt his shoulder a couple of days ago, and now it doesn't seem as though he can move it."

"Okay," said the receptionist. She pulled out a clipboard with a piece of paper of clipped to it. "Name?"

"Mine or my brother's?"

"Brother's."

"Dean Winchester."

The receptionist nodded and set the clipboard on the desk. "Have him fill this out, and I'll go get Dr. Grahm."

"Thanks," said Sam. He took the clipboard and carried it back over to his brother. "Need me to fill this out for you?"

"I need you to kiss my ass," replied Dean. "I don't have any credit cards on me."

"Free clinic, Dean. You can't use that excuse."

Dean let out a frustrated sigh. "You wanted me here; you can fill out the form." It was Dean's way of saying, _"Yes, I need you to fill out the form."_

Sam sat down and took the pen which was also clip to the clipboard and began filling out the form. After a few seconds, Sam decided that torturing his brother with this form was going to be his revenge for Dean never having told him about his shoulder.

"Name?" asked Sam, looking at his brother expectantly.

"Screw you."

"Date of birth?"

"Fuck off."

"Sex?"

Dean paused for a moment. "Any time." He smirked at his own cleverness.

Sam let out a chuckle and then went back to work on the form. About ten minutes had passed before the receptionist came out into the waiting room.

"Dean Winchester?"

Sam and Dean both looked around at the empty waiting room wondering if calling out the name was really necessary before both of them got to their feet.

Dean turned to glare at Sam.

"What?"

"I really don't need you back there, Sammy."

"It's Sam."

"I don't need either one of you back there."

"Dean, I was just going to go get a magazine. Don't get your undies in a twist." Sam picked up a magazine that didn't look like it was from 1994 and sat back down in his chair. Dean followed the receptionist back into one of the exam rooms, and he was instructed to sit on the table in the middle of the room. She let without saying anything else.

It took several minutes for Dean to maneuver himself onto the table without sending his shoulder into fits of pain, and just as he managed to get himself onto the table, an attractive young woman wearing a pair of bright pink scrubs walked into the room. Dean studied her for a moment before speaking.

"Are you the nurse?"

The woman smiled as if she was asked that question a lot. "No, I'm the doctor. The receptionist doubles as my nurse, but trust me, you don't want her working on you." She held up her hand and wriggled her fingers. "Cold hands. I'm Dr. Gina Grahm, but feel free to call me Gina, everyone else in Riverview does." She extended her hand to Dean, and he shook it awkwardly with his left hand.

"Okay." Gina looked at the form on the clipboard in her hands. "What seems to be the problem?"

"My brother is a moron."

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Anything else...something perhaps I can help with?" She paused. "Something medical?"

"I can't move my right shoulder," replied Dean flatly. "But all it needs is some heat and some rest, and it will be fine."

"Well, you can either show me your medical degree or let me be the judge of it." Dean glared at her. "Take your shirt off." Dean just sat on the table making no attempt to remove his shirt. "I could cut it off, but trust me, you'd look rather silly walking out of my clinic with no shirt."

Dean grumbled and shook his head but relented and began to take off his shirt. The process took several minutes, and by the end Dean was allowing Gina to help; at least she was attractive. Gina set the shirt on the table behind Dean and gave him a cursory glance. Dean was a little shocked by the low whistle and then words that came out of her mouth.

"Someone beat the crap out of you."

Dean looked up at the doctor. "You should have seen the other guy." It was true; the wendigo was nothing more than a pile of ash now.

"What happened?" asked Gina, pulling out her clipboard and marking down a few things.

"I got into a fight with a jerk outside a bar," replied Dean; it amazed him sometimes how fast he could come up with a lie.

"What were you fighting about?"

"Don't even remember. I think the other guy maybe had a few too many."

Gina nodded and set down her clipboard. "Which shoulder?"

"Right."

"Alright." The doctor spent the next few examining Dean's shoulder and giving it a couple of gentle squeezes that Dean would have enjoyed for much different reasons had he been in any other situation. By the end of the examination, however, Dean's shoulder was pretty tender, and he wished Gina would hurry and get the examination over. With a sigh, Gina took a step back and picked her clipboard back up. She made a few more notes and then looked up at Dean.

"Your shoulder has frozen, pretty badly actually."

Dean stared at her. "So...what does that mean?"

"Your shoulder won't move, it's very painful, there is some inflammation in your tendons. I can go on."

Dean rolled his eyes, not appreciating the doctor's humor. "How do I fix it? heat...rest...massages?"

Gina marked something else on the clipboard. "Well, that depends?"

"On what?" Dean was suddenly very suspicious of the attractive doctor.

"Do you ever want to move your arm more than a few inches again?"

"What's going on?"

"Your shoulder has been injured badly enough that heat and rest aren't going to be enough."

Dean's brow creased in confusion. "Am I going to need surgery?"

"Not yet, and you shouldn't as long as you allow me to treat it here."

"How?" asked Dean.

"You're going to need a muscle relaxant."

"How do I take that?" asked Dean. "Is it a pill?"

Gina suddenly looked very sympathetic, and Dean did not like it one bit. "It's a liquid," replied Gina.

"So I drink it?" asked Dean hopefully.

Gina smiled uncomfortably. "More like I inject it...into your shoulder."

"Um...yeah. I think I'll be going now." Dean started to get up, but Gina stopped him and started speaking again.

"Fair enough, but I have to tell you that if you don't let me treat your shoulder now, you will have to have surgery on it later."

Dean stared at her for a second, trying to see if she was lying, but her stare never wavered. With a sigh, Dean sat back down on the table and waited for the doctor's next instructions. "Alright."

Gina gave him a soft smile and then turned toward the row of cabinets where she started pulling a few things out and setting them on the counter. "So, I couldn't help but notice that the injury to your shoulder didn't come from that fight you were in," said Gina rather casually.

Dean froze up; this was why he did not like to go to doctors. If they weren't asking questions, they were figuring out what was wrong with you, and in his line of work, that was not a good thing. "Yeah...yeah it did."

"No. There is no major bruising on your shoulder which would normally be the signs of an injury. In fact, an injury like this normally comes from either the arm being repeatedly put into the same position...like with some athletes in the or the arm being held in the same position for an extended length of time and pressure being exuded on it." Gina paused for a second and gave Dean a knowing smile. "I noticed some...interesting bruising around your wrists that indicates your wrists were not only tied together for some time, but had a lot of pressure on them."

Dean swallowed hard; he had to get the doctor who was the reincarnation of Sherlock Holmes. This was not good; he was going to kill Sam if they ever got out of there. "Look, I swear to God that it's really not what it looks like."

Gina laughed and set a hand on Dean's arm. "Calm down. Trust me, I've worn enough school girl uniforms to know that some people are into some kinky things."

A sigh of total relief escaped from Dean's lips. Thank God. She thought he was into kinky sex (not completely untrue); she didn't think he had been tied up from hours and hung in a cave.

"You know," said Dean, getting back into Dean mode, "I wouldn't mind seeing that school girl uniform."

"Really? Well, my husband might have a problem with that."

Dean shook his head. "Figures."

Gina smiled and left out a laugh. "I'm going to go out to the waiting room and get your brother."

"Why?"

"Because this shot is going to be in a pain in the ass...not literally, and I'm going to need some help."

"Why not get your nurse?" Dean really didn't want his brother in there.

"Because she has the bedside manner of a carp."

The door to the exam room was suddenly thrown open, and the receptionist walked in carrying a cordless phone. "Um...Gina?"

Gina smiled. "Speaking of which."

"Your husband is on the phone."

Gina closed her eyes and sighed. "What does he want?"

"He wants to know why you're not at home."

Gina sighed. "Would you please tell him that the baby won't be here for six months, and if he wants to be able to afford it, I have to work. Tell him to stop worrying."

The receptionist nodded and turned and walked out. Dean looked up at Gina. "You're pregnant?"

"Consequence of being a naughty school girl." Gina smiled and set down her clipboard. "I'll be right back."

"Whatever," said Dean, only managing to shrug one of his shoulders.

Gina set her clipboard down on the desk by the door and walked out of the exam room. She gave the receptionist, who was getting a drink from the water fountain, a quick smile and made her way out to the waiting room. It wasn't hard to find the brother; their was only one other person in the waiting area. Gina walked up to the guy and extended her hand. "Hi. I'm Dr. Grahm, but you can call me Gina."

"Sam Winchester." Sam took the doctor's hand and shook it. "How's my brother."

"He and his shoulder should be okay granted the muscle relaxant that I am going to give him does its job."

"He needs a muscle relaxant?"

"His shoulder is frozen, and this is going to be the best and fastest way to get it back into shape. I was actually coming out here to ask for your assistance, and to give you some instructions on your brother's care."

"Care?"

"Yes. He doesn't seem like the person to listen to a doctor's advice."

"You've got that right."

"So I thought I would let someone else in on the information."

"Like what?"

"Like the fact the muscle relaxant is going to make him very drowsy and nauseated for a few hours. Also, I'll be prescribing him a painkiller and anti-inflammatory that should help get the shoulder the rest of the way into shape. Other than that, heat and rest which will just make it feel a hell of a lot better."

Sam nodded as he followed the doctor back to the exam room; he found Dean sitting on the table in the center of the room, looking less than pleased with his situation.

"Happy?" said Dean flatly.

"Oh yeah," said Sam sarcastically. "I love seeing you in pain."

"I know you do, sadist." Dean scooted back a little on the table and winced when his bad arm was jarred.

"You know, if you had told me about this earlier-"

Dean cut Sam off. "Wait, I know how the rest goes!" Sam crossed his arms and stared at his brother. "Bitch, Bitch. Nag, Nag."

"Real mature, Dean. Now, I wanna see if you can still make jokes when that needle is in your shoulder." Sam tilted his head to point to something over Dean's shoulder, and the older Winchester did his best to turn and see what it was. No one could say for sure, but it looked as though Dean turned slightly pale at the sight of the needle in Gina's hand.

The doctor walked toward Dean and set a hand on his shoulder. "I will warn you," she said, voice full of sincerity. "This is going to hurt a lot."

"Is that all?" Dean tried to make it sound like an off-hand comment, but the answer he got was not what he had been expecting.

"No. It will also make you nauseous and drowsy." Gina gave him a comforting smile. "Ready?"

Dean rolled his eyes but steeled himself, ready for the shot, at least he thought he was. Gina took hold of Dean's bad shoulder, and Sam took up a spot next to Dean, close enough to offer support, but far enough away that an excuse was close at hand.

Dean gritted his teeth when the doctor began to insert the needle into his shoulder, and a hand shot out and grabbed hold of Sam forearm tightly when she pushed down on the plunger.

"What the Hell is in that?" demanded Dean as he let go of Sam's arm (he would deny he had grabbed it in the first place later on) and Gina pulled the needle out. "Liquid mercury?"

"No," said Gina, walking over and tossing the needle into a bin marked with the hazardous sign. "I use mercury for the stomach flu." It was obvious from the smirk on her face that her comment had been joke, but it seemed that only she and Sam found it funny.

"Okay," said Gina, turning back to Sam and Dean. "As I said before, this shot is going to make you nauseous and drowsy, so I suggest just going and getting some sleep. I'm also going to prescribe you a painkiller and an anti-inflammatory. Other than that, heat and rest are the best things you can do for it."

Dean nodded, rubbing his shoulder with his good arm. "You got it, Gina."

She handed Dean his shirt, and the elder Winchester pushed away his brother's hand when he tried to help. "Sam, please tell me you at least listened to what I just said," begged Gina.

Sam nodded. "I did."

"Good." Gina pulled a pad from her pocket and wrote a couple of things down on the top sheet. "Get these filled and do as I say and your shoulder should be back to normal in a week or two." She handed Dean the prescription as he stood up and set her hand on his good shoulder. She leaned toward his ear to give him one last piece of advice before he left. "Careful what kind of fun you have from now on."

Hoping Sam didn't see him turn a little red, Dean replied, "I'll work on it."

Sam and Dean made there way out of the clinic and were almost back to the Impala before Sam said anything.

"What did she mean?"

Dean shook his head, beginning to feel the effects of the shot. "What did who mean?"

"What did Gina mean when she said 'Careful what kind of fun you have?'"

Dean smiled as he pulled open the passenger's side door. "Wouldn't you like to know." Dean plopped down in the seat and stared at his brother. Sam rolled his eyes and got into the driver's seat.

As Sam pulled away from the clinic, Dean rested his head on the back of the seat, feeling like he could use a nice long nap. Sam was talking to him as they drove down the street, but Dean was paying his brother no mind. He was too busy drifting off to sleep with the image of Dr. Gina Grahm in a skimpy school girl uniform massaging his sore shoulder.

Sam decided that he would get his brother back to their hotel room and inform the clerk that they would be staying a few extra days; he was going to make sure that Dean rested his shoulder even if it meant spending the next few days cramped up in a crappy hotel room. There were emails he needed to send to people back at Stanford and research that he could do during the downtime; however, there was one problem with both Winchesters staying in the same hotel room for a couple days: Dean's shoulder would never get better of they tried to kill each other.

_**Finem**_


End file.
